


we come back every time

by princessofpoldark



Category: Poldark (TV 2015) RPF, Poldark - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-22 18:34:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3739069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessofpoldark/pseuds/princessofpoldark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU : Ross was never forced to join the military and fight in the American War of Independence. He instead, spent his youth raising hell, drinking and gambling all along Britain. But when he hears of his fathers death he is forced to return back to Nampara and his old life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So I was rambling away on a tumblr post today about how formative Ross's years in America were, its where a lot of his ideology was born. So I wondered what an AU version of Ross would be like, without the experience, what would have become of him and how he would have dealt with the inevitable death of his father. I thought about it so much it became a fic, hopefully you'll like it.

 

 

****

 

 

Ross Poldark had the distinction of being the biggest cliche in England.

 

A bored, pampered gentleman, with a taste for debauchery and a sardonic wit. He relied on the kindness of drinking companions for hospitality (For you see, he was also rather broke).

He insisted that it was not really his fault. You see somewhere between Ely and Cambridge in the early spring of 1783, he had lost a wager("A Scientific Demonstration of Gentlemanly Endurance") to determine who could drink the most and still stay on his saddle. Somewhere around ale fifteen he had fallen off his horse and into a thorn bush, losing his last 10 pounds and his favourite shirt in the process. So really, you see, it was just a bit of bad luck, after all his limit was usually around eighteen. It was just a jolt of bad luck.

Anyway being broke was of no concern to Ross Poldark, after all, he had been broke before and he would most certainly be broke again. You see, Ross had an ancient and distinguished name. Why there had been a Poldark of Cornwall since the Romans to be sure! And Ross had been trading on his good name and charming smile since he had been an unruly child. And for the last three years he had used his name to enter into a life of house parties, cheroots, brandy and big breasted barmaids named Bess.

But alas this chapter of his life was about to come to a rather abrupt end.

 

 

****

 


	2. so it goes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ross is forced to abandon his life of debauchery and head back to Cornwall.

****

There was a knock on his bedroom door at an unseemly hour.

“A letter for you Master Poldark.”

Ross groaned into his pillow and called the servant towards his bed.

He had spent the previous night on the Winstanley Estate, drinking excessively and gambling away his last farthings and he he was not predisposed to move until noon at.

“A bit early don’t you think?”

The footman looked sheepish.“Sorry Sir, but the messenger was most insistent.”

Ross frowned when he saw the handwriting on the envelop, “This is from my Uncle Charles, whatever could he want?”

****

His father had died, most suddenly and quite without notice

One day he was taken abed (gout! had thought Charles, nothing to worry about in the least, after all, gout of the legs had never killed anybody!) and the next he was gone.

Dr Choake wasn’t quite so sure as Charles that the swelling had been down to the gout afterall but whatever the cause, Jacob Poldark was dead and Ross, his only child was to inherit the estate.

****

 

It took him five days and a few borrowed coins (his “friends” were generosity itself) to reach Cornwall.

He arrived at Trenwith as darkness fell.

He had been planning on riding directly to Nampara but as he approached he’d found the prospect of any empty house quite disheartening. His Uncle Charles, cousins Verity and Francis and dear grumpy old Aunt Agatha were his only remaining family, now he was a poor little orphan of three and twenty. He decided he would need a proper homecoming.

Dinner was in progress when he entered. At the head of the table was Charles, to his left was Verity and his right Elizabeth Chynoweth. Francis, Aunt Agatha and Elizabeth’s Parents took up the remaining seats.

The first to notice him was Verity. “Ross! Gracious me! We were not expecting you!.”

He gave her a quick hug and his painted impish grin, “Well seeing as I only arrived in the county an hour ago I would be quite surprised if you had.”

Francis chuckeled but agreed with his sister, “Not one of us knew how to reach you I’m afraid, you’re quite the man of mystery cousin.”

His uncle Charles interrupted them, giving Ross a firm handshake and pat on the shoulder. “Good to see you safe Lad. I am afraid we couldn’t wait for you with regards to your fathers funeral. Why its been three weeks past since I wrote you, not knowing where or when it would find you.”

“I quite understand Uncle. I only wish I could have been here sooner.”

“Have you been home yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Well you won’t find the house in a good state of repair.”

“It wasn’t when I left.” he said with a careless shrug.

“Well its worse now.If I was you I would throw that fellow Paynter out and get a more reliable man.”

“He was my fathers friend.” In truth, Ross had little interest in Jud or Nampara. He had come home because it was expected of him (and he couldn’t afford to keep pushing his luck in regards to funds). But managing the estate held little interest.  

There was soft murmur of “Hello Ross.” from across the room and for the first time in years, his gaze met Elizabeth’s.

 

****

 

When Ross was a lad, he had imagined himself quite in love with Elizabeth. She was beautiful and gently bred and inspired admiration from everyone she met for she possessed all the qualities of a true Lady, dignified and elegant.

She had bewitched him.

But her mother and father had not approved of the young master poldark. He drank, he smoked, he gambled but worst of all there were rumours he spent far too much time socialising with his fathers miners. Elizabeth was not to be “thrown away” on a penniless raise-hell.

So it was decided. Elizabeth was to be given a “coming out”. Within a month she was shipped to her Aunt Rowena’s in London, and was to spend the the spring of her 19th year dancing and gossiping and generally being as far away from Ross Poldark as possible.

After she left Ross had drank and brooded for a month.

Eventually, his father had intervened with small gift; Darkie. What was proposed as a diversion, a new horse to break had sparked an idea in Ross and became his mode of transportation.

On a wet morning in April, he’d ridden out to London, sleeping under trees and bridges at night (for he was still rather penniless) and he imagined himself on a great romantic journey to win back his love.

But when he arrived the illusion had been shattered.

Elizabeth had not been miserable and pining for him, as he had her. She had been flourishing in the city, away from her mothers suffocating influence.  She had become one of the belles of the season.

Oh she greeted him with warmth, and proclaimed to have missed him terribly but something had shifted forever between.

He spent his nights gaming and drinking and watching Elizabeth flirt and dance with half of London from across ballrooms.

Night after night he became bitterer and drunker until his life had spun into what it was now, a series of mishaps and escapades.

He had lost touch with Elizabeth completely. In fact he hadn’t seen her for years, he had quite presumed her married already to one of her many admirers, but he could see now, that that was not the case.

Looking on her now he felt no twinge of bitterness or resentment of three years past. He felt only nostalgia for his former self - his former life, before the drunkenness and dissipation. Oh he had been a little wild to be sure but still a green, hopeful lad, filled with dreams for the future. He scoffed. He knew more of the world now, knew little point in such dreams. He was here to collect as much money as possible and leave for greener pastures.

“Elizabeth,” said Mrs. Chynoweth, “fetch me my wrap from upstairs”

Elizabeth gave him a soft, wistful smile then continued out the room at her mother's bidding. When he looked back on his family he found Francis’s eyes following after her dutifully.

It appeared he was not the only Poldark to have fallen under Elizabeth’s spell. Well he wished him luck, for he would no doubt need it to survive Elizabeth Chynoweth.

 

****

 


	3. fade into view

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ross is forced to address his history with Elizabeth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear there will be Demelza next chapter

****

Nampara was smaller then he remembered. It sat against the rolling cornish hills small and squat.

There was little light at this late an hour and he found himself squinting in the moonlight to try and see past the the overgrown trees and shrubby to where his childhood home and inheritance lay.

His home appeared desolate.

Overgrown vines wrapped around the stone work like a scene from a fairy tale. The front gate was rotting and hung off its hinges.The grass in the front yard was knee high and thick and awkward to navigate through and as he approached the house he noticed water seemed to be seeping everywhere.

He creaked through the front door into what had once been a warm and cozy sitting room. Today it possessed the stench of a pigsty and apparently was being used to house livestock. Insanity!

The room was covered in mud and hay underfoot and a thick layer of dust everywhere else. He found the rest of the downstairs faired no better: pictures strewn, furniture upturned or disposed of.

All that was left was a icy shell of a house.

Fantastic, thought Ross. Just what a fellow wanted after a colossal journey, 6 months worth of repairs. He seethed with anger at Jud and Prudie. But he knew most of the blame lay in his wastrel of a father, who had allowed the lazy pair into his home and into his trust.

“Jud!” He bellowed.

Silence greeted him.

He turned into the hallway and marched up the stairway warily, cursing the day his father had ever met the old drunk.

The floorboards creaked underfoot and he hesitated at the door of his fathers bedchamber. Behind it he heard a low snore.

He thrust open the door angrily and was hit by a the powerful stench of stale sweat and gin. Jud and Prudie, his fathers incompetent excuse for servants, were dead drunk and lying in a heap on his ancestral bed.

Ross let out a bark of a resentful laugh, “Typical!” and rolled back on his feet preparing to find another another place to sleep until morning, nothing would rouse them when they were this drunk…. unless...

A few minutes later he was back, carrying an icy pail of water and dumping it on the bed.

Prudie screamed and flailed about, waking Jud, who cursed and clutched his head.

“Rise and shine, you two have a lot of work to do”

 

****

 

The next 48 hours were terrible ones for Jud and Prudie Paynter.

For there was much to do to make the house hospitable again, the floors were to be scrubbed, the carpets beaten and the entire house to be aired out of the unholy smells that still lingered.

Ross watched the entire process with a certain amount of satisfaction, for he felt the more Jud continued to complain and swear at him the deeper his success.

“We’lls ain’t y’a gonna ‘elp?” Jud grumbled at while Ross liaised on the freshly cleaned settee.  

Ross arched his eyebrow in a show of distaste and continued to sip on the remainder of his fathers best rum.

****

 

The following morning he took a quick tour of his inheritance.

Every field was choked with weed and lying fallow, the barns and stables were falling down for disrepair and it seemed he was now the proud owner of an orchid filled with rotting fruit and dead leaves.

It was enough to drive a saint to drink.

By the time he reached the coast and the mines his heart had sunk into his stomach.

It had all seemed so simple, why he was certain other gentlemen just handed over the running of their estate to a more competent fellow and spent their time drinking and hunting. But as ever, he was not so fortunate.The estate was bleeding money and he had none. He would need capital and hard work to get it into a place where he could leave it unsupervised again.

He sighed.

Ross was not averse to hard work as such. He had always been an active man, he was never one to sit about in the darkness of his study all day when adventure could be found on horseback. It was just that, well Ross had never had to actually work before, he had never done anything in his life but follow his own whims and amusements and he found the sudden thought of impresenment to Nampara styflinging.  

Well there was nothing else to be done about it, he thought. He would spend a year or two, getting the farm back on its feet (as was his begrudging responsibility) and as soon as he was able, he would be back on the road again and free of this blighted life.

**  
  
**

****

 

He arrived home in a sour mood, brightened only by the appearance of Verity.

“Oh Ross! Your poor house! I am ashamed that I have not been over more often.”

“You’ve been busy no doubt.”  She nodded wearily, it occurred to him that now Uncle Charles was getting on in years, more and more responsibility would be thrust upon Verity’s shoulders as the lady of Trenwith. He sympathised with her in this regard a great deal.

“My dear, you’ve got some hard work to get things shaped up.”

“It seems I have an abundance of free time.”

“You’re not thinking of going away again?”

“Very quickly if I had money but alas-”

“But what of Elizabeth? I thought you had been quite fond of her.”

Ross sighed, “ I have no option on the girl.”

He rather wished Verity would drop the subject but he could see that something was bothering her.

“Ross… Ross I must tell you something. Its about Francis and Elizabeth…”

“Indeed? Has Francis declared himself quite hopelessly in love yet?”

“Oh! So you know!”

“Yes, it was rather obvious at dinner. I was worried he might start reciting sonnets over the ham.”

“It was strange how it happened… Francis had scarcely seen her until this summer past, then suddenly she was all he would talk of…”

Ross couldn’t help the cruel smirk from forming on his face.“And she noticed his mine, his house, his estate.”

“Ross! He is talking of preposing.”

He laughed, “Of course he is. Well I wish him luck.”

“Sincerely?” Verity asked dubiously.

“Of course. Why I’ve got enough trouble of my own without wishing Elizabeth Chynoweth on my plate as well.”

Verity eyed his estate in agreement

 

 

*****

**  
  
**

 

The next few months were a whirlwind of activity for Ross. He woke at daybreak every morn, was out on the farm, ploughing and weeding, fixing fences and mending thatch until dusk.

 

At night he would drink himself into oblivion to mask the aches and pains of his labouring and perhaps to mask the dull ache of loneliness settling into the pit of his stomach.

He had never been quite so alone before.

When he was young he had his mother and father and even Francis about him constantly, and he had always had people about him at school, after all he was a charming fun loving lad with the world at his feet then.

He spent his days almost without seeing a soul now, lord knows he tried to avoid spending as much time with Jud and Prudie as possible, he gave them sharp orders and did not trouble them for friendship.

So perhaps that was why, when news reached him of Francis and Elizabeth's engagement he found he could not react with indifference.

He felt a deep bitterness that his cousin could possess everything that he could not. He had successful estate, a mine and soon a wife. Ross could barely scrape two coins together to feed himself.

The thought of  attending their wedding and witnessing such unmerited joy irked him and so thrust the invitation on a desk and did not think on it again.

 

 

****

 

 

 

He got it into his mind to examine Wheal Grace. The mine had been shut many years ago, when he was just a boy and was surely of little use to him now. But he wanted to take stock of all that he owned, worthless or of value.

So one afternoon he put on a suit of his fathers mining clothes and walked down to where she sat on the clifftops. As he approached, he saw a familiar figure on a horse.

He and Francis made awkward small talk about the mine and Gambler’s dwindling profits while Ross peared around the ruins of the mine, shifting through the inky black water and inspecting the vast walls.

Eventually Francis got to his point. “ Ross you do know I am to be married next week?”

“And?”

“And you have not yet accepted our invitation.”

“I have things to attend to, my house is like the sack of Carthage.”

“But Ross you must come! It is our dearest wish.” He whined.

Ross chose to ignore him. “You see the ground is rising a little, we’re turning north now.”

“Look, Ross, I wished to explain. When I first met Elizabeth, there was no thought in of coming between you ”

“Between us? Look here Francis there is nothing to get in the way of, Elizabeth and I are not attached in the least and haven’t been for a very long time.”

“But in that case, why have you been so distant? And why not come to the wedding?”

Ross sighed, entirely sick of the subject of Francis and Elizabeth and their union. “ I’m just not really in a celebratory mood I suppose, but if it means that much to you, of course I will attend.”

**  
  
**

 

 

****

 

 

 

The wedding itself was short and unremarkable, taking place on a bright, sunny morning in Sawl Church and culminating in a sincere exchange of vows by the bride and groom.

Elizabeths lace veil billowed about in the wind as they left the church and Ross watched her gather her flowers and clutch on to Francis’s arm with a vague sense of amazement.  

He had imagined this day a million and one times in his mind when he was younger (envisioning himself as the groom of course).

It seemed almost bizarre to him now to have loved her , she was such an ethereal thing, more of a daydream, a fantasy than a woman to him.

He choose to spend the lavish wedding breakfast consuming large amounts of Uncle Charles best brandy and chatting amiably with Verity who was turned up in a very fetching pink gown.

He had almost managed to avoid any further awkwardness with Elizabeth and Francis but sadly his luck ran out as soon as the cockfight begain when he was cornered by Elizabeth

“Ross, I was so glad to see you at church. You must wonder why I wanted you to come today. I wanted a chance to explain and to apologise-”

“For what? There was no formal undertaking between us.”

“But you know there was something… an understanding. But three years is a long time Ross.”

“Indeed it is a long time. Elizabeth, do not feel you have to explain yourself to me. I wish you and Francis all the happiness in the world.”

“Truely?”

“Well.” Ross smirked and aimed for his drollest tone “Truthfully you could have found a husband who wasn’t a dear cousin of mine but I suppose he is second best to the real thing”

Verity interrupted them “Oh Ross, what a thing to say on her wedding day!”

But Elizabeth laughed and Ross felt a relief curing through him once more. Perhaps this meant they could all be friends again and this blasted saga of young love could be forgotten.

Ross was, of course, being terribly naive.

 

 

**  
******


	4. just take me home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ross meets Demelza!

 

****

 

The Redruth fair was one of the largest in the district and people from the neighbouring villages  swarmed the town, leaving it cramped and hectic.

It was a warm summers afternoon when Ross arrived with Jud, he had come with the intention to buy oxen with the money his father's pocket watch could muster and once he had made his selection he sent Jud on his way home with the oxen, warning him to avoid the taverns at all cost if he wanted to make it to tomorrow alive.

A natural born haggler he had managed to strike a bargain that left him with a few coins to spare.

It was a good day. The sun was shining, the birds were singing and Ross Poldark was about to making a killing.

**  
  
  
  
  
**

****

Now, Ross may not have been known for his fine decision making skills, but he was by no means a fool and he was an excellent card player.

Perhaps that might be a misrepresentation. Ross was a mediocre card player, with an excellent ability to read people.

One look at the crowd at the Red Lion and he knew he’d be going home a richer man.

**  
  
**

****

**  
  
**

He’d laid down his stake a half hour ago and joined in with the jovial bunch, ordering a few pints and playing up his own inebriation.

Most of the lads were miners from Illuggan, which was far enough away for them not to recognize  the young Master Poldark nor his place at their table.

It was, in fact,  quite the relief to be free of the burden of his name. and the responsibility that went with it. Here he could be just Ross. Just a man playing cards as the men around him were.

He was so busy amiably stealing all of their money he quite didn’t notice when a young woman barged into the pub.

Unnoticed by him, she had started a frantic, whispered conversation with one of the men at the table. The man shrugged her off as if she were a fly and continued to down his drink.

It wasn’t until her voice turned shrill that Ross looked up from his cards.

“‘Ow could ya? You knew I was watin’ on dat money! What are we to do now eh? Are we to starve too?”

The entire pub turned, curious to watch the evenings entertainment.

“You will not raise ya voice to me missy! I’m still ya Pa after all!” his voice was deep and threatening, though the effect was ruined slightly with the way he slurred.

The girl seemed unperturbed by his tone, in fact she got louder. “Oh you’re a father now eh? Where was that thinking when you were drinking away all our money? You ‘ave seven mouths to feed!”

Ross winced, seven children! And he was out getting plastered on the best french brandy a man could pirate. Ross was inclined to agree with the loud girl. He felt bad for the chit, having to deal with such a father. But not bad enough to show her father any leniency.

It seemed the girl had had enough of being ignored and flounced off to a nearby chair to watch miserably as her father sink them even further.

It was under her intense blue gaze several hours later that Ross delivered the final blow and left the Carne family destitute.

He almost felt guilty about it when he saw the girls face crumple into her hands. But then he looked over towards her indifferent father and the feeling vanished. The man's family was not his responsibility. He had done his duty with Nampara and could do no more.

He cashed out as soon as possible, weary of the ensuing scene between man and daughter and beelined for the door. He had made it safely out into the street when he felt a tug on his arm.

“‘Scuse me suur, I’m that sorry to trouble ya.”

Ross spun round to find the miners daughter a hairbreadth away from him, he stepped backwards gingerly.

“Yes?”

“I know it ain't my place to ask for favours, but i’m desperate, you see, i’ve got six young brothers and one of thems real sick and - and - well, ya saw me father in there… we’ll not survive the week without the money ya just won.”

He half listened and half examined the girl. She was tall, much taller outside then she had appeared hunched up in the small tavern. And she had wild red hair that shone out in the daylight, she was almost pretty really (in an unconventional way). If only she hadn’t been wearing rags and covered in a thick brown soot.

She looked near tears.

And it turned out, Ross was not completely heartless.

“Listen, if I gave you the money, how long do you think it would be before he drunk it away again. I can’t give you the money.”

The girl looked crestfallen.

“But I can offer you a chance to earn it back. Can you cook?”

“Eh.. A little… sur.”

“Ok good, You’re already better than my current cook. When can you start.”  He gave her his most charming smile, hoping to warm her up a little and out of the startled expression she had been wearing for the last minute.

It worked.

She gave him a shy smile in return and proceeded to ask a lot of questions about, where he lived (a few miles past Sawle) and when she should start (why, today if she was available) and could she bring her dog (under the firm condition that he was not allowed in the house).  

And she agreed.

Ross was rather relieved at the thought of eating something edible for dinner and patiently waited while she informed her father (who was too drunk to form sentences anymore, let alone protest)

****

**  
  
**

Much to Ross’ amusement she sang the entire journey home.

She sang church hymns and nursery rhymes to begin with. But then delved into a repertoire of brawdy drinking songs he was sure she was far too young to understand.

“Just how old are you?”

She turned to face him as best she could on the saddle, “Seventeen as o’ last week.”

Ross nodded, that seemed about right, she was undernourished to be sure which made her look younger, but she was tall and carried herself with the self assurance of an adult.

He supposed with six younger brothers she had had a lot of responsibility to deal with at a young age. Why when he was seventeen he had got to be carefree, gallivanting about the countryside and mooning after every girl he met.

“Your name?”

“Demelza Carne”

“Strange name.”

She shrugged. “Mother were called it too.”

“Well I’m Ross Poldark. Master of Nampara.”

She grinned impishly over her shoulder, “Strange name.”

*****

The reality of taking in the girl hit as soon as he arrived and faced the spanish inquisition from Prudie.

He could afford to pay her thanks to his winnings at the card table today. But he couldn’t allow her in the house as she was, filthy and crawling with lice. Lord knows it had taken him weeks to get Jud and Prudie into the habit of washing and he wasn’t looking forward to repeating the process anew.

He turned to Demelza, standing in her ragged shirt and skirt, hair matted over her face and hardened his heart.

“If you are to work for me, you must first be clean. Do you understand. No lice?”

She gave a jerky nod.

“Follow me.”

She trailed after him (and the dog followed her) to the back of the house, where the pump was.

He beckoned her over and jerked her head under the pump. Besides him the dog (Garrick she had said) yapped and watched anxiously over his mistress. She gasped as the first rush of cold water poured over her head. Ross scrubbed vigorously, ignoring her discomfort.

When he was finished he threw her the first cloth he could find.

“Dry yourself on this, I will fetch you some thing to put on.”

What that was to be he had no idea, he had not planned on taking in any urchins and so was totally unprepared.

“Prudie, fetch one of your skirts… A clean one!”

Prudie volunteered a long red skirt with a drawstring waist with some reluctance and Ross found one of his own shirts for her to wear.

When he re entered the courtyard he found her shivering slightly, her hair laying in wet red mass. There was a slight pink tinge to her skin now, making her look quite lovely.

Ross swallowed down that last thought. There led a dangerous path.

“Here,” he offered her the clothes, “Go change by the fire in the kitchen.”

Ross ignored the temptation to follow her and instead went to unsaddle Darkie.

**  
******


	5. we go crashing down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demelza adjusts to life at Nampara

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll be happy to know I finally got a beta, so massive thanks to my moon and stars sioned for making this readable.

******  
**   


The hour leading up to dinner that night was a noisy one. Ross could hear the clanging of metal pots, Purdie's hysterical swearing and Jud’s occasional mumbling  from all the way in the study.

He was weary then, when Demelza’s first attempt at a fish pie was served to him, she seemed nervous as she placed the plate down in front of him and hovered at a distance while he took the first bite.

He made an odd groaning noise that Demelza presumed was out of pleasure and not heart palpitations.

“Ya like it then?”

Ross took another generous bite and nodded, almost ignoring her in his eagerness to keep eating.

She grinned from ear to ear and pranced happily towards the door, making Ross smile.

“Demelza.”

She turned in the doorway.

“Remember, Garrick sleeps outside.” His voice could be rather authoritative when he wanted it to be.

She sighed, “But sur, he ain’t got no crawlers I sw-”

“No animals in the house. That is a firm rule. Understood?”

“Yes sur.” Her face fell just a little.

**  
**  


****

Sleep evaded Ross.  At first he had presumed it was because the damn dog was whining outside.

For hours all he had heard was the whimpering and clawing at the door, but sometime around midnight the whines had come to a stop, either the dog had given up and gone to sleep or Demelza had caved and let him in (he guessed it would more likely be the later).

But long after silence had fallen over Nampara, Ross still tossed and turned.

He was not a worrier by nature but something about Demelza Carne just unsettled him. She was trouble, he was certain.

He supposed he should have realised how attractive his new maid was but it had been hard to tell underneath all that muck and grime that had covered  her face on that afternoon but as it turned out, a bath and some clean clothes had transformed Demelza Carne into a beauty.

And now, he was stuck with a ridiculously attractive woman under his roof who he would not touch!

It was hardly fair. After all he had tried to do something nice for her once ( well nice of a sort - he had after all, taken all of her family's money) but the act had come back to bite him in the backside.

Everyone with half a brain cell to rub together would start to speculate all sorts of things… things Ross wasn’t all that opposed to.

It just would not do to have rumours milling about him especially not now. He needed the support of his neighbours if he was to start up the mine again and in turn restore the fortunes of both his family name and Nampara.

Yet he could not bring himself to send the girl home now. And after all, he needed a new maid and she seemed cheerful and competent and he enjoyed her presence. She also really could cook.

So what if she was attractive. He was not a beast, he could deny his baser instincts (first time for everything).

He and Demelza would do fine. Maybe even a friendship may blossom..

Although… perhaps it would be for the best if he avoided the brandy in her presence. He may be able to resist his baser instinct but he must certainly didn’t want to tempt fate.

****

Ross spent the next day few days repairing a barn roof in the hope that his exhaustions would leave him too tired to stay up that night, thinking about a certain fiery haired scullery maid.

It hadn’t worked yet.

He worked himself to weariness and sunset was looking forward to well urned rest.

Instead he was greeted by a panicky looking Prudie at the door.

“Thur's three men to see ee. They stank into the ’ouse without so much as a by-your-leave. They’re in the parlour.”

Ross followed her in curiously.

Inside were three, burly looking miners, he recognised the oldest as Tom Carne, Demelza’s father.

“Mister Poldark. These two my brothers.”

Ross nodded, in no mood for this, “Well?”

“Where’s my dattur?” he barked.

There was an awkward pause as Ross was unsure how to answer.

“They’ve searched the ‘ouse” interrupted Prudie.

Well, that pissed him off.

“By what right?”

“Right, by God! You ’ticed my dattur away.”

“I did no such thing! I offered her a position and she took it willing. The girl is old enough to know her own mind.”

“Look ’ere, man; she's my dattur, and she’ll not go to be plaything to a rake-hell dandy, not now, nor when she's forty, see?”

“Even that,” said Ross, “might be better than caring for your pigsty.”

Carne and his two brothers edged towards him.

“You brought your family? Not man enough to do the job yourself?”

Carne turned on his brother with a growl, “Keep out o’ this, see? He's my affair. I’ll finish him.”

The man came at him, grabbing at Ross’s shoulder and shoving him into the large cabinet behind him. Ross hit the wood with a shudder.

It took him a few seconds to regain focus and by that time Carne was delivering a heavy blow to Ross’s face. He let out a grunt of pain and staggered once again into the cabinet.

Behind him he heard a shrill shriek of anger and a thud.  When he looked up he saw Demelza, standing over her father, a heavy copper frying pan in hand.

“Oh Judas! What ‘ave I done?” Her eyes wide in fear or shock he could not tell.

Her father didn’t appear to be stirring after that blow, so Ross felt safe enough to step forward, grabbing the frying pan out of the shocked girl’s hands.

The girls uncles looked at her in apprehension, as if fearing the same fate.

“Go on,” Ross told them between laboured breaths, “Get your brother out of here.”

He watched them each grab an arm and lift Carne from the floor, with a practiced ease, this was clearly not the first time they had had to carry him home before.

He turned back to find a hysterical Demelza pacing backwards and forwards.

“Oh surr. I’m that sorry! I never thought he’d come lookin’ for me, why I told ‘im yesterday I was goin’, that we needed that money.”

Ross ignored her and instead focused on nursing a small cut just below above his eye that stung like damnation.

“‘ere surr, sit down-”

Ross sighed, “Demelza, I’m fine-”

“Surr.” For such a young girl, she could be an authority when she wanted to be.

Ross sat. A moment later Demelza was back with a wet wash cloth, fussing over him as if he were a fallen soldier and not just the victim of a brawl.

She pressed the cloth to his brow and looked stricken when he winced at the discomfort.

“Honestly Demelza, I’m fine, it’s a scratch.”

It was more than just a scratch of course, his nose in particular felt disjointed, but she was so close to him (too close really), giving him such a heartbroken look and he suddenly couldn’t stand it.

“I am sorry surr-”

“-Yes, you’ve mentioned that-”

“-If you want me to go, I under-”

“-Leave? What? Demelza stop.”

She lowered the hand that had been held to his brow and their eyes met for an awkward moment. Ross couldn’t think for a moment. She was ridiculously beautiful.

“Don’t leave.” His voice was soft and more gentle and more importantly sincer.

Sincerity sounded foreign even to his own ears. It made him feel … strange. Panicky.

“I might just starve with Prudie cooking for me.” He aimed for droll, but it came out a lot more husky and flirtatious than he’d intended.

She took a step back.

“If you’re sure.” She looked a little dazed herself.

“Yes. I’m sure.” A lie, Ross wasn’t certain about anything anymore.

“I’ll make you some willow bark tea then, I found it always helped me after- “

“-After what?” Ross asked sharply.

There was an awkward pause where Demelza pondered the best way to avoid answering.

Eventually abandoning the idea of responding at all, she quickly leapt out the the room and into the safety of the kitchen, whirling around trying to find the kettle in the mess Prudie had left.

It was no good, she had just located it under a pile of laundry (really Prudie?) when she turned to find Ross standing right behind her, completely invading her personal space.

“After what Demelza?” His tone was calm but his eyes showed anger.

She huffed, whirled around the kitchen table and out through the door, making for the water pump. He followed of course and behind him was Garrick.

“Demelza! Answer the damn question!”

Demelza tried to pretend she hadn’t heard a thing, focusing instead on yanking the pump handle as was humanly possible.  

Tis none of his damn business, she thought. But that wasn’t strictly true. After all, her business had just tried to beat him to death in his own front parlour.

Once the kettle was filled, she stormed back into the kitchen, again followed by Ross, who watched from a distance as she began making his tea.

There was a considerable silence, Ross almost gave up hope of her ever speaking again.

“Well you seen father. He likes a drink. An’ when he’s drinkin’ we soon run out o’ money. Thats when ‘e gets angry at me. Takes the belt to me back every other night or so.”

She was turned away from him, shifting about at the stove as she spoke the words quickly, as if she was telling him about a new song she’d heard that day. That somehow made him feel even worse for her and the abuse she had had to endure.

She shrugged.“It’s no matter. Happens pretty regular down Illuggan,”

Ross supposed that were true. He himself had been given a good hiding from his father a few times. But this was different. He could sense it in the way it turned a bright, joyful girl into a  hollow shell.

“That doesn’t make it right Demelza.”

She finished pouring out his tea, handed it to him.

“Well I’m ‘ere now… right?” She smiled up at him, softly.

  
“Yes. You’re here. And I wont allow him back on my property. Never again.” A smile on her lips and on his.  Ross Poldark may not have had the greatest of reputations in the past, but on this matter, he was a man of his word.


	6. watch us go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a bit of a ~furthering the plot~ chapter, but I hope you enjoy it none the less.
> 
> Shout out to my beautiful beta Sioned (who's got a modern! poldark fic ya'll should read)

 

****

 

Ross spent every night hunched up in the study working on his plan to reopen the mine at Wheal Leisure, this time looking to extract copper.

It was a rather desperate maneuver, all around him mines were closing by the day, not being able to afford the costs with prices being so low. But the mine was his only asset. He could not lose it. The farm made very little and he could not improve his fortunes without the gamble on the mine.

Pockets of copper had been found right before his father ran out of money and with a bit of luck Ross hoped he could turn his fortunes around.

His father's lawyer had set up a meeting for him with a group of local investors. He was working diligently on the proposal and profit projections well into the night for  weeks.

He and Demelza had developed a routine.

Around seven every evening, she would carry his dinner in on a tray and pester him to stop and eat. He would put on a show of annoyance but secretly enjoyed her fussing over him. She would get all flustered and red faced whenever he made a sarcastic comment about not having time to starve to death and he would fervently try to block out images of her flushed face in other, less innocent, circumstances later on in the night.

Those thoughts were a prime example of why the mine had to succeed. He couldn’t continue to live under the same roof as the girl and expect to keep a safe distance without doing something reckless.

The sooner he was out of Cornwall, the better for him and especially for her

****

It was one such evening.

Ross had been staring intently at ledger while he shoveled food into his mouth and Demelza, bored from waiting for him, found her eyes wandering around the study.

She had never seen a room like it before. The large wood paneling that ran from floor to ceiling seem to cover the room, shelves and shelves, covered in books and books, dozens and dozens of large leather bound books. And surrounding them were illustrations and artifacts from far off places. Places Demelza couldn’t even begin to imagine, she who had only ever been allowed the five miles into the town.

Her whole life before Ross had been so small, but so all consuming. And now in this room she finally saw the world as Ross must see it, large and filled with endless possibilities. Her hand lingered on the small side table nearest her, she fingered the book left open in marvel, she wondered what other world lay behind its surface.

“Do you read?”

Demelza jumped, quite startled.

“Oh I’m sorry sur, I didn’t mean-”

Ross was staring at her quite intently, “Don’t apologize Demelza. Can you?”

She shrugged. “Of a sort. I wen’  to school... a little, but then mother died…”

Ross nodded.  And there was such a long pause Demelza thought that must be the end of it.

“Well if you’d like to learn further. I can teach you.”

“Oh no, surr-”

“What, you don’t think I’d make a good schoolmaster?” He smirked at her teasingly with a glimmer of something in his eyes.

Demelza couldn't resist rolling her eyes at the obvious manipulation.

“It’s not that, you be busy, with Wheal Leisure.”

Ross waved his hand in a dismissive gesture.

“The meeting is tomorrow, once I have secured the money I’ll hand off the work to a forman.”

Demelza squirmed, feeling herself quite stuck. “Well… if tis no bother..”

“Excellent,” He gave her a mischievous grin, “We’ll begin as soon as I have cracked my way back into the mining business.”

****

The next morning, Ross was on edge. He had prepared all he could, had practiced his speech into a mirror more than a dozen times to the point where even Demelza could recite it .

He supposed he had never worked for something like this before and found the prospect of looking for others approval uncomfortable.

This was, after all, not a situation he could easily charm his way into.

He felt vulnerable.

He had just finished changing into his riding clothes when there was a soft knock on the door.

Demelza’s voice called through his bedchamber door “Sur, your cousin’s here.”

“Right, thank you Demelza.”

He grabbed his riding crop and went down to the parlor to meet Francis.

For the past few weeks, while Ross had been getting his affairs in order, his cousin had come around to the idea of supporting his venture, not via capital of course as he was already stretched quite thin at Gambler, but as a helping hand for Ross to learn about the mining industry. His father was still largely responsible for the mine and choosing to ignore his son when it came to the running of the business.

Francis had grumbled to Ross enough about the situation for it to become of interest to him and a bargain had been struck, Ross would allow him to shadow him in exchange for a show of confidence in front of the investors. After all Francis’s name was worth more than Ross’ to the investors, who was still considered a reckless man, not a prude investment. But with Francis on board, Ross felt more confident.

“Good morning cousin.”

“Ah Ross, are we ready for today?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Francis laughed and joined him walking out toward the stables.

“Is your maid alright carrying that?”

Ross turned to see Demelza heading towards the house, carrying a pile of wood larger than her.

“Demelza, what on earth do you think you’re doing!”

Demelza stopped, startled. “Er… working sur?”

Ross gave her his most withering look and grabbed the wood from her, “This should be Jud’s responsibility, where is the lazy old sod?”

Demelza wisely avoided tattling on her fellow servant, “I don’t mind.”

“Well I do” Ross walked the remaining distance to the woodpile and lobbed the wood with ease.

“In fact, I shall need you in town. Fetch your cloak.”

Demelza looked bewildered. “Surr? Never ‘ad no cloak.”

****

Halfway to Truro, it became apparent to Ross that Demelza could make anyone fall under her spell.

Even Francis, who was considered by many to be stuffy and dull, was laughing at her quick wit and joining her in her songs. He even had a few dirty limericks to add to her growing collection.

Ross would have been flabbergasted had he not witnessed it before. It had not taken her twenty four hours to work her magic on Prudie, who now clucked around her like a mother hen, fussing over her much more than necessary. It was heartwarming to see Demelza with a motherly figure in her life. Infact even Jud was beginning to curb his outward hostility, why just last week when Demelza had scolded him for drinking the last of Master Poldarks wine, he had actually looked ashamed (If Ross hadn’t been witness it he would have believed it).

There was something intangible about Demelza that just drew a person in. Even cold, cynical Ross was drawn to he like  moth to a flame. She was the light in a starless sky.

****

When they arrived they split into two parties and made their way to conduct their business.

The past hour galloping about and joking had done a lot to calm his nerves. And Ross found himself in a buoyant mood as he approached a room full of the county’s most influential business men.

At first they were naturally sceptical, but Ross was persuasive and his overflowing confidence and weeks of detailed analysis soon convinced them of it being a sound investment. Not to mention the show of confidence from his respectable and dependable cousin.

Nearly all invested.

And as they left the meeting there were mutterings of Ross Poldark, not as a disreputable rake, but as a credit to the family name and long may his good fortunes continues.

After all, hadn’t he taken his responsibilities seriously over the last few months? Everyone knew he worked from noon till night, toiling away at rebuilding Nampara bit by bit .  

And a lad could be forgiven for sowing a few wild oats in his youth. No, Ross Poldark, they assured each other, was most definitely reformed.

Ross wasn’t so sure.

****

Francis and Ross met a triumphant Demelza outside.

“‘e tried ta swizzle me. I beat ‘im down”. She lifted her bucket of pilchards to show them.

Francis peered at the catch with some amusement.

Ross smirked. “I expected no less. A good day’s work for us both.”

“So you succeeded? Oh surr, I am glad!”

“Yes, Ross here was a marvellous success,” Francis patted him on the shoulder.

Ross demured but was quite thrilled at the prospect of Wheal Leisure hopefully becoming a grand success.

Francis grabbed the pilchards from Demelza’s grasp and turned to them with a flourish “And I know just the way to celebrate.”

Ross raised an eyebrow, “Do you now?”

“Yes, Demelza we must spend some of that money!”

****

An hour later the three of them left Trelasks haberdashery and silk merchants with two new dresses and a scarlet cloak.

It had been quite the odd experience for Demelza who had lived a life of hand me downs and raggedy cotton. And appearing there that afternoon in her masters old shirt and a raggedy red skirt that was older probably older than her own mother. But when the cloak had been placed on her shoulders and she had emerged into the sunlight, part of her spirit soared.

It had been the first new thing she had ever been given in her life. And she felt light as a feather as she floated towards Nampara, swinging her cloak in victory.

Ross watched with some amusement as she played with the cloak. Glad to have brought her good mood about. Demelza deserved good things, he just prayed she wouldn’t look too good in her new dresses. He really didn’t need any more enticement.

**8*


End file.
